Ghost of You
by AoiSora27
Summary: Human AU. Slight Mafia AU. One fateful night, Arthur, a lad ready to end up his life, met his match. A meeting that brought two different people together as they unveil the dark secrets of the past that connected two worlds. AU. Detective!Arthur Familial Fluff. Eventual USUK.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia Characters, nor the cover photo.

**A/N: **This is my first fanfic. Ladies and Gentlemen, please be kind to me and enjoy. Reviews and comments are highly appreciated.

**Prologue**

_Time Check – 12:59 A.M. Greenwich Meridian Time _

Silence.

Despite the soft ticking of the grandfather's clock, and the faint dripping of the broken faucet, the unnerving silence echoes within the room. In its farthermost corner, next to the broken faucet, stands an unruly-haired, blond teenager with teal eyes, holding a sharp, pointed, thin piece of metal. Looking at the world with dull eyes, he reminisces the past for moments forcefully stolen away from him, and slowly opened his lips to chant, a verse his mother used to sing when they were little:

_**Hickory Dickory Dock. **_

Sweet, blissful memories of yesterday. Where kindness, innocence and purity encompasses the scenery, with his mother cuddling his baby brother, protecting them from the cruelties of the world, living a life without a care. Suddenly, the world swiftly changes, leaving him alone with a silhouette of a lad, slowly fading within the horizon. He runs.

_**The mouse ran up the clock. **_

Lost in an unknown world of memories, he continually chases after him, a ghostly knight of his past who opened a new door for his future, with fear of being left behind. The minute hand steadily moves as the real world comes knocking into him.

_**The clock struck one. **_

With the thundering chimes of his archaic grandfather's clock, once again, he was brought back to reality.

_**The mouse ran down. **_

He stands there, motionless, listening to his erratic heartbeat. Sighing, he looks down to his hands, trembling while holding an object that will determine his fate. He closed his eyes.

_**Hickory Dickory dock.**_

In a hoarse voice, he said "It's time to end this."

As he opened his eyes, Darkness consumed him.


	2. Where it All Began

**Chapter 1**

Sunday Morning of Early Spring.

With the radiance of the sun shining brightly, painting the azure skies with the hues of yellow that brought forth the beauty of spring, sweetly caressing the earth and its flowers to bloom, creating a melodious music of spring with the bird's chirping. Without a doubt, the weather was indeed beautiful, a perfect season for unity and love. On the other hand, despite being a nature-lover, Arthur hated this kind of weather. As a matter of fact, he actually wished for a storm or something to occur, anything that will stop this horrendous wedding.

"Well, how do I look, Arthur?" his mother smiled as she turned around to show her white gown to her son.

As the radiance of the sun shone on her, his mother glowed with elegance and grace, overflowing of bliss he had never seen before. The way his mother's hair fall perfectly on the side of her chin and down to her collarbone complimented her face, which brought forth the look of child-like innocence and purity. The way his mother wore the dress put the angels above in shame. As his mother's smile widened, it took his breath away.

"I don't trust that bloody wanker! What if he makes you cry again? I could not let that happen! Not on my watch, Mom!" Arthur ranted.

"You didn't answer my query, dear," she smiled as she approached her son and slightly tousled his hair.

"Trust me love, okay?" she kissed her eldest son's forehead.

It has been a long time since he last saw his mother's angelic smile. Indeed, his mother was an epitome of beauty. Her blonde hair was simply tied up in a messy bun, with some of her hairs falling out of place, still it fits her perfectly, bringing out her mother's youthfulness . She didn't have much make-up. Just a soft dab of pink lipstick was more than enough to show-off her natural beauty. A beauty that has been repressed for so long due to her oh-so-loving-psychopathic-ex-husband.

"You look very beautiful, mom." He said honestly.

"Too bad that it was all for that wanker," his mother merely chuckled at his son's statement.

"Arthur, be happy for me, okay?" she said as she fixed her son's collar and necktie.

"Peter? Are you ready?" she turned to her younger son.

"Ready as I'll ever be, mom!" an eight-year old British blond boy beamed.

"Okay then, let's go! The car is waiting outside."

He had an escalating sense of foreboding about this day, an irking feeling that there's an impending danger lurking within the vicinity. There was something on his mother's fiancée that he didn't like, something amiss yet he can't pinpoint. Undeniably, he was very rich and intelligent. His private plane once fetched his mother for a date, took her on a private ferry trip, and had a summer vacation on a private-whatever-house that looked like a bloody cathedral.

Everyone seemed to be happy. However, from Arthur's vintage point, it felt as if all of them were simply wearing an ecstatic mask, a delighted façade. Most of the guests were unfamiliar to him. Well, What would you expect from a bachelor, anyway? Arthur and Peter walked their mom down the aisle, only because she wanted to, not for that tosser-fiancee of her. He was wearing a white tuxedo, with an emblem resembling a blue rose. He smiled at the kids, but Arthur simply glared at him. If only Arthur could take his mother and run away, he would. In fact the idea of his mother being a runaway bride is very tempting. However, seeing his mother in sorrow was something he would never want to witness again.

He was afraid that this man would be no different from his oh-so-passionate-psychopathic-father. Refusing to let go his mother's hand, he felt a soft squeeze from his mother as she whispered.

"Smile for me, okay?"

And he reluctantly let go.

She rustled her son's messy blond hair. "Now, off you two go." They sat on the front row, even though Arthur didn't want to watch nor attend this wedding ceremony for that matter. However, as he glanced at his mother once in a while, he saw that his mother was beaming with Happiness. Seeing his mother smile made a soft curve tug on his side of his lips.

His mother and his fiancée faced the parish priest. Arthur didn't want to listen to any of the words of the parish priest, nor the wedding vows.

_On this day, _

_I give you my heart,_

_My promise,_

_That I will walk with you,_

_Hand in hand,_

_Wherever our journey leads us,_

_Living, learning, loving, together, forever_

Arthur scoffed. "_** Forever**", eh? _He was pretty sure that his oh-so-passionate-abusive-biological-father pledged those very same vows to his mother. _Then what happened next, huh? Promises are nothing but **empty words** and **half lies**. It's always meant to be broken. _

The priest spoke next. "Do you, Beatrice, accept Luciano as your lawfully married husband and stay with him, for better or for worse?" Her mother smiled brightly, an angelic smile sweetly playing on her lips, before answering.

_"I…" _

Out of a blue, a gunshot was heard.

Arthur's eyes were filled with horror, and so as Luciano. He gasped for air and covered his mouth to prevent an inhumane scream escape his mouth. He couldn't take what he saw. His mother's beautiful white dress was now painted with red. _**Bloody red**. _She fell down, and Luciano immediately caught her in his arms. Luciano quickly pulled a gun and fired at the man who killed his fiancée.

"Fuck you!" he growled.

All the suited men pulled their own guns and started shooting each other. Hastily, Arthur hugged his brother tightly, and docked.

"What is happening? Arthur? What happened to mother?" Peter is crying now.

Arthur didn't answer. He just continued to hug Peter. It was the only way he could protect his brother. A few minutes later, he felt something cold pressed against his head. Peter's blue eyes were horrified. Immediately, Arthur knew that a gun was aimed at him.

"Well, what do we have here?" said an eerie voice.

Arthur gulped. He opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. All the words were stuck in his mouth. He was too horrified to speak. He glanced at the altar. There. Lies the cadaver of his mother and supposed-to-be-father, with Luciano embracing his fiancée dearly, even in their deaths. Peter wailed. It was too much for him to take. His mother's dead body on her wedding day and a gun pointed to his brother were too much for him. Thus, he bit the man's hand. After all, That was the least he could do. The man winced in pain, dropping the gun.

"Why you little brat!" He took out his spare gun, aimed it to Peter's forehead, and unlocked the safety, threatening to pull the trigger.

Arthur grabbed the man's hand and pointed the gun to him instead.

"Shoot me! Just leave my brother out of this!" he growled.

He deserved to die, but Peter didn't. Peter had a long road waiting for him, and Arthur couldn't let this man take away everything from his brother, like what that asshole did to his mother. The man scoffed.

"Trying to be a hero, eh?" he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Arthur closed his eyes.

He was ready. However, his body begged to differ.

He was shaking. Fear embraced him, but he can't afford to give in.

Even if he deserved it, he didn't want to die. Nobody would, but protecting his brother was his main priority.

_**Please**, _was all he could think about. One word, he desperately clutched on.

**_Please. _**

For the first time in his life, he prayed to God.

_**Please save us**. _

Out of the blue, an ear-splitting gunshot was heard. However, it wasn't meant for him.

The man in front of him fell down, eyes open. Bleeding and dead. In the midst of the chaos around him, one thing was certain.

He was _**saved**._

As he tried to recognize his savior, all he could see was a silhouette. A shadow of a young man, about the same age as Arthur, holding a smoking gun. He couldn't see his face, the rays of the sun were blinding him. However, a shout abruptly sliced through his thoughts, an order he will ever forget.

"**_Leave and never come back_**!"

A/N: Forgive me for the grammatical mistakes


	3. The Rain Pouring Pain

**A/N:** FinallY! Chappy 2 is complete. Teehee. I've tried my best to base the setting of this story to the real world. Unfortunately, geography is not really my forte. XD Hehehe. Bear with me guys.

#BlessedByThePope :3

**Disclaimer:** I Do not own Hetalia :3

_Thoughts/ Emphasis_

_**Flashback/ Phone Conversation**_

**Chapter 2**

_xxx Timeskip xxx_

One Decade Later.

With an abrupt jolt, Arthur woke up, letting out a strangled gasp while panting heavily from the atrocious nightmare. Blinking for a few minutes, he blearily scanned his surroundings. It took him quite a while to realize where he was. Once again, he fell asleep in his office, with an unfinished cup of coffee on his side, along with the scattered documents and reports all over his desk.

"Bugger. It's that Dream again." Arthur muttered.

Years had passed since the occurrence of that incident. Still, memories of that time continue to haunt him like a broken record, as if everything has just occurred yesterday, the vision of his mother wearing her wedding gown while bathing on her own pool of dark crimson blood, the evident fear and horror on Peter's eyes while its streaming with tears, and the hazy image of his silhouette knight.

Shaking his head, Arthur tried to erase the unpleasant images on his mind. Failing miserably, he diverted his attention at the mirror, just on the opposite side of the room. He saw himself and frowned. Surely, the late night hours of work couldn't have been that bad. However, after seeing his reflection, he couldn't help but agree more. Dark, black circles surrounded his eyes, combined with his pale white skin complexion, leaving an impression similar to a panda bear.

_Yup. He totally looks like a panda. An English Panda. Bloody Hell. What had he done to himself?_

A soft polite knock sliced through his thoughts.

"Please Come In."

Yao entered, carrying corsage of pink camellias {1} mixed with White and Red Roses {2} on his right and holding another bloody report on the left.

"Good Day, Señor Kirkland. Here's the latest report regarding that case."

With a brief glance to his pocket watch, Arthur quickly flipped through the pages and carefully slid it inside his attaché case. Getting ready to leave, he stood up, stretched his arms lightly, grabbed his ambered leather coat on his side, and gave an appreciative nod towards the Chinese man as he accepted the posy.

In a rueful tone, Yao spoke, making him stop at his tracks. "Are you... Are you going to visit him again, Sir?—" Without waiting for Arthur's response, the Chinese man continued. "—You Know… What happened to him was not anyone's fault, especially not yours, Arthur."

Arthur opened the door. But before he could completely step out of his office, he looked back at Yao and stopped.

With a soft voice, he mumbled "Thanks."

With a soft thud, Arthur closed the door. Thus, completely leaving the Chinese man. Alone.

XXXXXX

Unbeknownst to Arthur, on the 18th floor of the skyscraper, beside the building he just left, along the outskirts of London, around the 21st Baker Street, a shadow is stealthily trailing after him through lens of the L96A1 sniper rifle.

Kring. Kring.

"**_W_**h**_a_**t**_'s _**t**_h_**e **_po_**si**_ti_**o**_n _**o**_f t_**h**_e _**t**_a_**r**_g_**e**_t?"_**

"_Everything is going according to plan, Boss. He just passed through the 221B of the 21st __Baker Street, carrying a corsage of pink camellias mixed with White and Red Roses."_

"**_G_**o**_o_**d**_. J_**u**_s_**t **_m_**a**_k_**e s**_u_**r**_e h_**e **_d_**o**_es_**n**_'t s_**t**_r_**a**_y _****a**_w_**_a_**y **_f_**r**_o_**m h**_i_**s **_p_**a**_t_**h**_, t_**he**_n p_**ro**_ce_**e**_d _**t**_o CODE X._**_"_

"_Roger, Boss."_ And the line was cut-off.

Just beyond the docks of Tilbury, on one of its forsaken warehouses, a mob of ebony suited Mafiosos from the other side of the line, gets ready for a job, with the under-boss leaving the words,

"**W**e**_l_**_l _t**_h_**e**_n b_**o**_y_**s**_, _**L**_e_**t**_'s g_**o**_. W_**e**_'v_**e g**_o_**t **_a _**b**_i_**g **_c_**a**_t _**t**_o _**c**_a_**tc**_h. _**B**_e R_**e**_a_**d**_y, M_**r**_. D_**e**_te_**c**_t_**i**_v_**e**_. _****_I_**t'**_s P_**a**_y_**b**_a_**c**_k t_****i_m_**e**_. _****_L_**e**_t _**t**_h_**e **_g_**a**_m_**e**_s _**b**_e_**g**_i_**n**_._**"

XXXXXX

At the moment, here he was, leaning against one of the majestic ebony-furnished poles beside Crime Academy, a prestigious academy specially made for aspiring detectives. Most of the kids are already out of the academe. Arthur guessed that Peter was once again, playing games with him by making him wait on purpose.

As he was patiently waiting for his brother, which means playing along with him, Arthur sniffed the corsage. And for a moment, he was brought back to a blissful past.

_**"What's so good about those flowers? It will just wilt and die, just like everything else in this world. So, Stop dillydallying and Let's go. We've got a load of work to do, Bloody Git."**_

_**"Ha Ha Ha. Now that's where your wrong Artie. And stop being so grumpy, Here. Take it."**_

_**"Wha**_**_— I don't want it!_** —_**"**_

**Personally speaking, Arthur hated—_no_—loathed those flowers. To him, flowers are nothing but an indication of the drawing moment of his mother's death. Because, it will only be the time he will ever need those kind of things: during his mother's death anniversary. It is his painful reminder that nothing lasts forever. A sign that one day, everything you cherished will be taken away from you. Arthur shook the thoughts our of his head and carried on. **

_**"**_—_**And stop calling me Artie!"**_

_**"Okay. Whatever you say, Artie**_—_**"**_

_**"**_—_**Hey! I told**_—_**"**_

**Ignoring the desperate protests of Arthur, he continued**

**"—But you see, there's more to it than what meets the eye. Flowers hold various meanings—_"_**

_** "**_—_**Of course, I knew that, git. I'm not stupid, unlike somebody**_—_**"**_

_**Arthur gave him a pointed look, but it was simply neglected by the other as he carried on.**_

_**"**_**_— like hidden messages—"_**** Arthur snorted. _"_—_But, that's not the best part. It's true that just like all living thing, flowers wilt and die. However, everytime it blooms in the embrace of spring and under the summer sun, it acts as a sweet reminder of our impermanence, a captured moment. It is a testament of the beauty that lasted in that moment, even if it's only for a second, those captured moments will be painted in our hearts that will forever flicker in our memories— "_ **

**He paused, playfully twirling the flowers side by side. He faced Arthur and smiled.**

_**"**_**_—After all, the greatest beauty our world could ever offer is the beauty of our fleeting existence. Cause only when you realize these things, you will see that all the things you've been searching for is just right before your eyes —"_**

**He sniffed, taking all the sweetness of the pink camellias, and once again, handed it to Arthur.**

_** "**_**_—Don't you agree, Artie?"_**

Unfortunately, Arthur was forcefully brought back to reality by the sudden twinge on his shin, making him cringe in pain as he looked up accusingly at his assaulter.

There, standing in front of him with a triumph look, is his brother, Peter, a 12-yr. old golden hair bloke with a sapphire eyes and thick, furrowed eyebrows similar to him, wearing his typical sailor uniform with a lazuline collar and matching capripants together with high knee socks and his ebony hued Mary Jane shoes. However, he missing his trademark cerulean sailor cap.

"What?—" Peter shrugged. "—It's your_ fault_, you know. I was _calling_ you and you were _ignoring_ me. Just gave you what you _deserve_, Jerk."

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up, tidying himself up. He was about to talk to his brother about these kind of actions when he was stopped by a piece of paper vigorously shoved at his face. And in a disdainful tone, his brother boasted.

"Teehee. I aced the test _again_, Jerk. Better watch your back now, I'm definitely gonna surpass you—" Sticking out his tongue, before he continued. "—But before anything else, you've got to treat me, _again_. Also, You owe me a new game."

Arthur chuckled at his brother's antics.

"Fine. You win. Let's go. First, I'll buy you your favorite bloody strawberry scones. Then, we will head to the plaza "

As they were walking, Peter forlornly glanced at the posy, and with a solemn voice, he muttered.

"Is that... Is that for him again?"

Arthur paused. He tousled Peter's hair and grimly smiled. As he whispered a faint "Yeah" that quickly disappeared within the background. Peter, trying to placate the melancholic atmosphere, cleared his throat and arrogantly declared.

"Well... Since I'm a nice and understanding person, we can buy the game some other time. For now, let's just go and give him his flowers, before it wilts. He's fond of those posy, right?"

Peter looked up, only to see his brother staring at him like a hawk. He blushed, cheeks blossoming profusely with a tint of pinkish ruby crimson.

"Wha—What are you looking at, Jerk! I—if you think, I'm doing th—this f—for you. Ha! Better, Think Twice, Jerk. Don't get so full of yourself—" Petulantly, he stuck out his tongue. "—Besides, he's a lot more fun to play with than you. You suck."

Arthur smiled. His brother really knows how to brighten up his day. Although, it's a shame that there's still mockery dripping from his voice. _Oh Well, the tragedy of genetics. _Arthur shook his head and threw his coat at Peter's face.

"Don't get too cheeky on me, brat—" With a mirthful expression, he playfully smacked his brother on his head. And continued "—You're a century too early to sprout lines like that. And carry my jacket, will you?"

He continued walking, albeit slower than his usual pace, with a smug face, leaving his brother crunching on the ground while softly caressing his new bump. Peter, with newly formed tears at the edges of his eyes, reluctantly wore Arthur's coat before he looked up to him and shrilly chided.

"Bloody hell, Jerk! What was that for! It hurts like hell you know!"

Before Arthur could respond, a new velvety voice was heard.

"Because you're acting so unprofessional and immature. Anyway, stop being such a baby and get up. The others are already waiting at the park, you're the only one missing."

Standing there, in all glory, with crossed arms whilst tapping her paintbrush is Peter's friend(?), Wyn, an ambered hair petite little girl, about the same age as Peter, with a tattooed band aid in her forehead wearing a cerise hued ascot and a rosy tinged smock.

"What the hell, Wyn?! What do you want?—" his voice slowly calming down as he cleared his throat "— I'm afraid you have lost me. I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. Our professor fore mentioned that there was no need for our sporadic gathering. Every espionage activity and reporting were to be postponed until further notice."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at his brother. Who knew he could speak so professional and eloquent at the same time. Maybe he was just hearing things.

On the other hand, with an exasperated sigh, Wyn answered. "Guess, you forgot it _again_. Well, that's to be expected. We've got a group meeting, remember? We, the cream of the crop, were given special code to decipher. It's the one with the—"

"Yeah. Yeah. I get it. Just shut up. I'm coming with you. Jerk, I'll be waiting for you at the park. I expect you to be there by noon with my strawberry scone and—" Suddenly, he was smacked with paintbrush" —Hey! That hurts, Wyn!"

Yup. Arthur was just hearing things. His old bounderish little brother is back.

Crossing her arms again, she spoke. "What did I tell you about interrupting me? It's _disrespectful _and that was very _incompetent_ of you. As your captain, it's my duty to correct you when you have wronged. Setting that aside, hurry up and stand up. Let's go. The others are waiting."

"Duty my _arse._ Who the _hell _made—" Begrudgingly, Peter stood up and faced Wyn. With a pointing stare, he continued. "—you _my captain_. As far as I can remember, _I'm_ the _one_ who _aced all_ of the _exams_. If ever, I should be the _captain_. Not _you_."

Wyn huffed.

"_Touché._ However, just like what everybody has observed, you are lacking something very important: compassion to work on a team and leadership—" Before Peter could retort, Wyn continued. "—Truth to be told, you have all the desire aptitude to be the captain—" Silencing Peter with a pointed look before he can even retort. "—There's a _big difference_ between _a good lead_er and just _a leader_. A tyrant is an exemplification of a leader. However, he is not the one our society needs. Nevertheless, your astounding capabilities to lead was easily _overthrown_ by your _adamant refusal_ to work and follow others. For 'he who cannot be a good follower cannot be a good leader.' _Aristotle_—" Wyn caught her breath and carried on with a smirk. "—It is what everybody had _acknowledge_ me for, unlike you."

Along the sidelines, Arthur is absolutely enjoying the scene beholding before him, not really bothering the fact that his existence was forgotten. _Those two totally looked like a bickering newly wedded couple_. He mused. Then, he heard his brother remarked with his usual sarcasm.

"Well, _sorry_ to burst your bubble, _Captain_. However, as soon as I _graduated_ from this bloody academy, I'm planning to work my cases, _alone._ _Forever._"

Wyn snorted.

"As if anybody could ever accomplish anything alone. Ever heard, 'We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.' _Jk Rowling."_

Peter shook his head

"What a _cliché_. As detectives, I believe, 'We carry about us the burdens of what thousands of people have said and the memories of all our misfortunes. To abandon all that is to be alone, and the mind that is alone is not only innocent but young—not in time or age, but young, innocent, alive—and only such a mind can see that which is truth and that which is not measurable by words.' _Jiddu Krishnamurti._ Isn't that what we need to be a professional defender of justice? "

Furiously glaring daggers at each other, Arthur simply looked back-to-back at both of them. He could have sworn, he saw a dangerous _electric current _in-between. Now, he is definitely looking forward at Wyn's next move.

As Wyn was about to open her mouth , she was promptly interrupted by a call coming from their colleagues. Wyn released an infuriated sigh, and stared accusingly at Peter.

"I entirely _blame you_ for this. Stop _dawdling_ our time and for the last time. _Let's go_."

Arthur, somewhat disappointed that the show was about to end, merely waited at his brother's _intelligent_ response.

"Right. So now we're _playing_ the _Blame game_—" Peter rolled his eyes, and gave his brother a quick goodbye. "—We're leaving. See you later, Jerk."

And they left.

Arthur shook his head, amusement is evident in his features as he faintly mumbled. "Kids these days—" Glancing at the sky, an endearing smile slowly tugged at the end of his lips and continued. "—I… I guess you're right, _again_. Although inconspicuously, beauty still exists in this cruel world of ours."

He started walking, made swift turn around the corner, and headed to the nearest scone stand.

XXXXXX

Walking side by side in utter silence, Wyn was getting anxious by the minute. Thus, she decided to break it by asking the question that has been bugging her since they left.

"Peter... Back then, you purposely interrupted me, didn't you? You stopped me from revealing our special assignment—" She looked down at her feet, slightly ashamed of her petty mistake "—And… I'm only saying this once, and—" Wyn breathed deeply, and continued. "—I'm sorry. It was so negligent and unprofessional of me to—"

A soft hand stopped her from speaking as she heard Peter mumbled a faint velvety "It's okay." A sweet angelic curve slowly made way on her lips, but it was easily replaced by a frown as she remembered an important matter. She carried on.

"—You know... You can't hide it forever from your brother, don't you?"

Peter sighed.

"I know. However, as what you have seen, that Jerk has already too much on his shoulders. He definitely doesn't need me to add more—" He glanced at Wyn and smirked. "—Guess, I'll just have to suck it all up like a bloody professional, don't I?—" Grudgingly, he Peter grunted as he continued. "—Still, don't you think these special assignments are just too much? I mean. We're 12. Bugger."

Wyn simply chuckled at him.

"Well, it can't be helped. We're accelerated after all—" Suddenly, she swung her brush at him and ran, but immediately paused, meters just before him. Wyn gracefully turned around to face him with a teasing yet enticing smile that _almost _took Peter's breath away. (Keyword: almost) "—Aren't you such a charmer, _Mr. I-Don't-Care-About-That-Jerk-But-Actually-Does_. Such a sweet, understanding little brother. It's a shame you're hiding it— "

Looking at Peter, who is currently profusely flushing with a tinge of rosy crimson on his cheek, as he was trying to form coherent responses but failing miserably, she chuckled. And in a playful voice full of confidence, Wyn spoke again.

"—Anyway, Let's make a_ bet_. The last one to arrive at the park has to treat the other in an _elite _dining tomorrow for lunch. In which in this case, you _lose_." And she ran off.

Blinking sheepishly for a few minutes, Peter, realizing he was about to lose, immediately followed after her, as he protested a deafening "Hey! That's Unfair!" that was quickly ignored and simply fell on deaf ears.

With an undying resolve to make her lose, Peter blindly chased after Wyn, completely obliviously of the danger that awaits him.

XXXXXX

"Mou. What's taking him so long?" Peter mumbled.

Idly swaying the swing while fidgeting the edges of his brother's ambered coat, here he was, all alone, at the Princess Diana Memorial Playground. With the clouds gradually encompassing the sky, hiding the aureate radiant sun, all the kids and his classmates, even Wyn, had already left for the chance of a drizzle. He felt his stomach grumble. _Oh right, it's already past one._ Now. he missed lunch. His big brother definitely owe him big time. While thinking of a place to eat, and how to get back to his brother for making him wait, Peter saw a shadow moving closer to him. Believing it was his brother, he grinned. He already had a place in mind where they could eat, and at the same time, will cost much, and it will be his brother's compensation for making him wait.

Ecstatically, he turned around to greet his brother.

"Finally! You're—"

And Peter slipped into darkness.

XXXXXX

_Finally_.

Arthur thought. After waiting in the line, for what feels like an eternity, he was finally able to buy Peter a bloody strawberry scone. _Great._ It's already past one. Peter will surely throw a fit for making him wait and miss lunch. _Bugger_. With that in mind, he hurriedly turned around the corner and head back. When he finally got a glimpse of the playground, Arthur was eager to give the bloody scones to his brother. He quickened his pace, only to see that…

Peter was _gone_.

He looked around. However, still no sign of his brother. He went to the swing where he last saw Peter. With a loud thud, his attaché case dropped as he stopped at his tracks and witnessed what was waiting for him. And there _it_ was, innocently laying on the ground. A message especially written just for him:

**_W_**e**_'v_**e **_g_**o**_t _**y**_o_**u**_r b_**r**_ot_**h**_e_**r**_, M_**r**_. D_**e**_te_**c**_t_**i**_v_**e**_. W_**_a_**_i_**t f**_o_**r **_m_**y **_c_**a**_l_**l**_._**

Furiously, Arthur ripped the letter into pieces, and ran.

Just beside the swing where both Arthur and Peter once stand upon, a scattered, ruptured pieces of paper together with an attaché case was left.

Lying there, Forever forgotten.

XXXXXX

Kring. Kring.

"**_D_**i**_d y_**o**_u _**g**_e_**t **_t_**h**_e l_**a**_d?"_**

"**_Yes, Boss. We've got it all covered. Ms. Tomboyish's Team is currently tailing and indirectly detaining Mr. Furrow-browed, holding him in place. Seriously, even bribing a homeless, just to delay him. He'll never reach us in time. As for the kid, he's unconscious though. Can't take all the pain. Still, he was one tough kid for his age."_**

With eyes filled with mirthful insanity, he smiled sinisterly.

"**_P_**e**_rf_**ec**_t. M_**a**_k_**e **_s_**u**_r_**e **_t_**h**_e k_**i**_d'_**s s**_t_**i**_l_**l **_a_**li**_v_**e **_w_**h**_e_**n **_I g_**e**_t t_**h**_er_**e**_. I'_**l**_l _**b**_e t_**h**_e o_**n**_e t_**o **_fi_**n**_is_**h **_h_**i**_m."_**

XXXXXX

Arthur has been running around in circles for hours, clutching his phone firmly on his left and holding the bouquet at his right. Now. He's back to square one. He glimpsed at his phone. Still No Message. _Bloody Hell._He looked at his watch. It's been 3 hours since his brother was taken_. That fucking Asshat_. He swears, if that guy touches his brother in any way. He'll kill him.

He was about to search for his brother again until he felt his phone finally rang.

Kring. Kring.

Wasting no second, Arthur answered.

With a childish menacing tone that sends chill to Arthur's spine, the caller spoke**_._**

"**_G_**o**_o_**d **_A_**f**_t_**er**_no_**o**_n, M_**r_._D**_e_**te**_ct_**_i_v**_e_**_._**_I b_**e**_li_**ev**_e, I h_**a**_v_**e **_s_**o**_m_**et**_h_**i**_n_**g **_o_**r **_s_**o**_m_**e**_o_**n**_e f_**o**_r t_**h**_a_**t **_m_**at**_t_**e**_r t_****h_a_**t **_m_**i**_g_**h**_t i_**n**_t_**e**_r_**es**_t y_**o**_u."_**

"**_Where's my brother?_**" Arthur spat venomously.

"**_K_**ol**_K_**o**_l_**K**_ol. Q_**u**_it_**e **_i_**n **_a h_**ur**_r_**y**_, A_**r**_e_**n**_'t y_**o**_u? W_**el**_l, I c_**a**_n'_**t **_re_**al**_l_**y **_b_**l**_a_**m**_e y_**o**_u. C_**a**_n I? Y_**o**_u'_**v**_e o_**nl**_y g_**o**_t t_**il**_l s_**u**_n_**d**_o_**w**_n t_**o **_f_**i**_n_**d **_h_**i**_m."_**

He glanced at his pocket watch. Arthur cussed. With gritted teeth, he furiously demanded.

"**_For the last time. Where. Is. My. Brother_**."

"**_Y_**o**_u'r_**e **_r_**e**_a_**l**_l_**y **_n_**o **_f_**u**_n._** **_A_**r**_e_**n**_'t y_**o**_u, M_**r_._D**_e_**te**_ct_**_i_v**_e? W_**el**_l, h_**e**_r_**e'**_s y_**o**_u_**r **_h_**i**_n_**t**_. H_**e**_'s i_**n **_a s_**t**_a_**ti**_o_**n**_. A_** **_s_**t**_a_**ti**_o_**n **_w_**h**_i_**c**_h s_**e**_r_**v**_e_**d **_a_**s **a_n u_**n**_d_**e**_r_**gr**_ou_**n**_d re_**fu**_g_**e **_d_**ur**_i_**n**_g WW II. K_**ol**_K_**o**_l_**K**_ol._**"

As he was about to finish the call, Arthur heard his caller speak.

"**_B_**et**_te_**r h**_u_**r**_r_**y_,_**_M_**r_._D**_e_**te**_ct_**_i_v**_e_**_."_

The caller cackled sinisterly. Then, he continued.

"O**_r _**e**_l_**s**_e _****_y_**o**_u _**m**_i_**g**_h_**t **_j_**u**_s_**t **_e_**n**_d _**u**_p _**w**_it_**h **_n_**o**_t_**h**_i_**n**_g_**_."_

And the call ended.

Arthur cursed.

Without any delay, he ran.

Arthur ran to the nearest stop, with only one destination on mind.

He knew one place where that could be.

The Wartime Bunker {3}.

XXXXXX

As he was fervently waiting for cab, a homeless lad, with bizarre torn-up clothes and a tanned skin from too much exposure, deliberately bumped into him without even bothering to apologize. Not really paying much attention, Arthur simply glimpsed at his fob watch. For a moment, he thought that time was on his side. However, on a second look, he noticed that none of the hands were moving. Suddenly, he had a strong urge to throw it away, but went against it anyway. _Damn it_. Now he had no way to keep track of time other than the movements of the sun. When he slid his watch back to his pocket, Arthur realized something.

His wallet was missing.

_Blast it. Must the whole universe conspire against him?_

First, his pocket watch broke. Then, he was nicked by a crook, a filthy homeless little tramp. Now. He had no way to get to that bloody station, but by foot. _Perfect. Just Bloody perfect_. _Can't things get any worse?_

Drip. Drip.

Apparently, it can.

Now, not only he was drenched with rain water and had no way to keep track of time, but also he had to run from one town to another with a distance of 3 km, just to reach that bloody station.

_Fantastic. Damn that Bloody Asshat. Damn this bloody rain. The whole universe be damned. This will not stop him from rescuing his brother. Come hell or high water, He will save his brother._

XXXXXX

Frittering away his time, he idly sat at one of the benches in Princess Diana Memorial Playground, while watching the kids leave, one by one due to the sudden rain. He huffed his cigar, not really bothered by the rain. That was until he felt a tug at the side of his sleeves.

"What the—"

He saw a little blond kid with dark cerulean eyes, wearing an obsidian black cap with a matching cape, holding out a briefcase at him, expectantly.

"Hey, Mister. It's yours right?"

Despite the drizzling rain, he just sat there for a few minutes, staring at the kid as if he just grew another head. He was snapped in his stance by a loud call of "Conrad!" at the farther corner part of the park.

Hearing the call, the kid just forcefully shoved the briefcase at him, as he shouted a deafening "Coming!" to where he heard the voice, and immediately ran.

For a moment, the kid paused, looked back at him with a smile, and shouted.

"Goodbye, Mister! Take care of your belongings next time!"

And with that. The kid left.

He looked at the briefcase, innocently lying in his arms, and spoke.

"The... Fuck?"

XXXXXX

Finally. He arrived.

With a loud thumping of his heart, Arthur can feel his legs burning, tormenting him in every move he make. However, despite the intense fatigue threatening to overpower him, adrenaline rush won over him. His resolve to save his brother was far greater than any of this.

Soaked with cold freezing rain water mixed with sweat, Arthur entered.

Not fully knowing whether his brother was really there or not, he ventured within the ghostly abandoned depot.

Aimlessly looking for any signs of his brother, Arthur wandered. Despite the exhaustion torturing his every muscle, and soaked clothes slowly getting heavier by the minute, he frantically searched for his brother. He endlessly searched for Peter until he was stopped by a throbbing sound coming from his left pocket.

It was his phone.

For some unknown reason, he felt his whole body turn white, and his blood gone cold. Arthur didn't know if its either due to his freezing damp clothes or due to the dread inkling feeling in his stomach. Nevertheless, he looked at his phone. And there was a message.

It was from _him_.

All of the sudden, the throbbing sound of his phone seemed a fiendish melody singing a song of death. Ignoring what he was feeling, Arthur gathered all of his courage, and opened the message.

Written in bold letters, the message was:

**_G_**A**_M_**E **_O_**V**_E_**R

For the first time in his life, he _hoped_ he was wrong.

No.

Arthur _begged_ every deity and God above that he was wrong.

As he went further down the station, Arthur can already taste the blood suspended in the atmosphere, the thick metallic scent heavily hung within the air continuously suffocates him.

Arthur froze.

What he witnessed, took away his everything. It was something that turned his entire body shaking uncontrollably, whether its from grief, hatred or fury, Arthur didn't know. The only thing he was certain was…

Once again, He was too Late.

Silently dropping the bouquet, he grimly fell down on his knees and embraced his brother dearly.

Here.

In the middle of the deserted two-platform Down Street station, Lies his brother's body.

Motionless.

Bloody and _Dead_.

Drowning on his puddle of dark scarlet blood, with one hand, firmly clutching Arthur's coat, as if it was some protective armor, even in his death. Arthur didn't give a damn anymore. He ignored the blood, quickly sipping through his clothes and permanently painting his white wrinkled long sleeves with crimson red. Caressing Peter's sweet pale face, he noticed that there was something at the end of Peter's other hand. With misty eyes, Arthur glanced at the tip of Peter's other hand and saw _it_.

There.

Beside Peter's grisly, cold lifeless body, a _note _was left for him. A _message_, cursively written in _blood_, _his_ brother's _blood_.

**_An Eye for an Eye. We've got our Payment back. Mr. Detective._**

Arthur broke down.

xxx To Be Continued xxx

**PREVIEW**

_"Tha—thank heavens, you're okay—" Arthur was definitely crying now. With a croaked voice, he carried on. "—I… I d—don't kn—know what t—to—"_

_"—N—no… Yo—you're w—wrong. A—arthur... I—it's m—me, Ma—Matthew—" Arthur heard the other made a loud sob before he continued. "— I—it's a—about h—hi—him—" For the second time in his life, Arthur begged he was wrong. "—He—He's g—gone."_

_And with a resounding thud, Arthur dropped the phone._

XXXXXXX

"_If you're going to jump, then jump. Or do you still need me to push you?"_

_"What the_—_Who the hell are you? Just leave me alone! Bloody Git."_

1 – Pink Camellia _means_ Longing for You

2 – White and Red Roses _means _Unity, The Flower Emblem of England

3 – Wartime Bunker _means_ an abandoned station in London, the two-platform Down Street station.

**A/N: ** I really suck at writing. Sorry! Anyway, I made Peter somewhat mature and professional since he's an aspiring detective like his brother. But when he's with Arthur, He's just the same old Peter, we all know. Setting that aside, Conrad and Wyn are NOT an OC :3 Just don't know their human name. So, I invented one. But they exist. Clue: Wyn is Peter's third cousin (Okay. I just made that up cause I'm shipping them. Not a big fan of incest, you know.) so she's also a Kirkland in Canon.


End file.
